


Dean's Light

by BadWolfWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel's True Form, Color Fic, Creature Castiel, Dean in Hell, Ficlet, Gen, Hell, Other, Perdition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:02:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7052914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfWinchester/pseuds/BadWolfWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People never understand how important light and color are until they're gone. Dean always understood. More than that, he reveled in light and color. Dean relied on them during hunts, driving, even when sleeping. So what happens when Dean goes to Hell and there's nothing but blackness?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean's Light

For as long as Dean could remember, he had been surrounded by light and color. The ivory light of the kitchen shimmering around his mother as she baked pies; the blue glow of the television as his father slept in front of it; the pale white shine of the night light Sammy refused to get rid of, no matter how old he got; the warm, golden sun glinting off of a gleaming Baby, the cerulean sky clear above them; the flickering beam of flashlights during hunts; the dim orange aura of the hotel lamps at night, because Sammy was still afraid to sleep in the dark, even at twenty-two. Yes, light and color were home. 

Then Dean went to Hell and the light disappeared. The only color he had was black. A never-ending, pressing, _choking_ , pitch-black. It was dark, so dark he could almost taste it if he weren’t already tasting his own blood.

Day after day, month after month, year after year, with no light. Just an overwhelming darkness and an excruciating pain. Dean could no longer stand it. He couldn’t even dream of light and color when he died at the end of each “day” because he couldn’t remember what they looked like anymore. He couldn’t remember the purple, green, pink, turquoise lights of the fireworks he and Sammy set off in that field that one Fourth of July. Couldn’t remember the sun catching on a bottle of Bobby’s shitty amber whiskey, couldn’t remember the sun itself. Just that desolate blackness. 

After thirty years, Dean began to beg. He pleaded with Alastair for light. Implored him to give just one color other than black. So when Alastair promised that Dean would get color if he picked up the knife and let others take his place on the rack, Dean didn’t hesitate. Screw these people. They were in Hell, they must’ve done some shitty stuff (he was there after all and God knows he’s done more than his fair share of shit). He needed color, needed to _see_ , no matter what. But when he picked up the blade, he didn’t see any color. At first, he was furious, about to turn the knife on Alastair himself. Then he realized he did have colors. Only now he could _feel_ them. As he sliced and hacked his way through people, he could feel orange and red, scarlet and crimson. Brief sparks of white light when he did something especially cruel. It was the most beautiful disaster Dean had ever experienced. It had been so long since he had had his colors and light; he could make these different ones his new home- he _would_. 

But ten years later, his home was disrupted. He heard even more screams than usual, and the clanging of metal on metal. He turned to yell at the offending parties, but his voice died in his throat. 

Dean was seeing a light- the brightest light he had ever seen, in any of his homes. It seemed to come from a creature unlike anything Dean had met. It had heads of all different kinds, tails, extra limbs, horns, a body that looked human. It was massive, at least a thousand feet tall, with multiple wings that spanned miles. He had never felt so small. The creature seemed to be made up of iridescent light, as if it had no corporeal form, just light creating shapes. Dean was so stunned by this new light that he didn’t realize it was moving towards him. Dean recoiled at first, stumbling backwards over bodies to escape. He dropped his blade but the black didn’t return. He was afraid; he didn’t know this strange light- it wasn’t _his_. The light-creature was faster than him though, and it reached out one of its hands and gripped his shoulder tightly. 

All at once, Dean relaxed. He still saw the light-creature, but he could suddenly see other colors, and feel them too. A kaleidoscope of colors danced through him. They were all there- the ones he had forgotten and ones he had never seen. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of long-forgotten colors. Memories came flooding back, but now he could feel the colors in each one, not just see them. Dean smiled. His first true smile in over forty years. He realized he was no longer standing on the ground, and when he opened his eyes, he was soaring through the pits of Hell, the light-creature flapping its enormous wings furiously. Dean gazed in wonder at the wings- they were infused with the myriad of colors he was feeling. Then he turned his attention to the light-creature’s human face. He wanted to know what his savior looked like in a way he could understand. The light-creature must have known somehow, because it turned its head to look straight at Dean. 

Dean gasped, staring into blue eyes, the most _brilliant_ blue. They were like oceans of perfect azure and they captured light from everywhere. The light from within itself, the light from its wings, a stark contrast to the darkness of Hell around them, and the light that Dean could feel in himself, even while still in this place of darkness and despair. Dean marveled at the fact that anything’s eyes could be so bright and pure. The light-creature turned its head away and their speed increased. Dean paid it no mind however; he had a new home in these lights and colors and he knew he was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @mishcoilins (Twitter) for reading and giving me the courage to post this! Love you Sophie!!!
> 
> Any and all constructive criticism is welcomed- this is only my second fic and I'd love to know what you think!


End file.
